I exited the tram, a huff of breath melding with cascade of steam as I glanced at the building beside the tram track, a couple of residential units, and a warehouse. There was a dock beyond it, the silhouettes of a number of boats moored in the distance, although they were small, and sparse. Not at all the grandeur of a port city that I had expected, what with the talks of the SS Albatross reaching port only weeks before.

A great giant of metal and ingenuity, the largest passenger ship to grace the seas, as the newspaper a had so proudly declared.

Maybe it'll meet an iceberg and live to tell the tale. Or it'll get a rom-com made out of it. Both tragic fates for a great metal giant.

I blinked, brought back from by thoughts as a puff of steam hit my face, jutting out of a pipe on the side of the tram. There were a couple of men wrestling with the tram, hoisting up a rusted tire which seemed to have derailed. Passengers and passerby's stood around them, chatting as if this was a daily ordeal.

"Don't suppose it'll be up and running soon?" I asked a nearby worker, earning a scoff, and a shake of the head.

"You kidding, pal? This rust bucket broke down last week too, barely runs on a good day." He let out a huff, swatting the tram's tire rim with his wrench, a clang ringing out as if to declare his frustration.

I grimaced, before letting out a hum, taking a few steps back to join the passenger crowd.

"Wonderful." I muttered my eyes scanning the warehouses, and residential units, a number of shipping crates scattered about.

"Is it? I would say it's an inconvenience, more so a failure of the transport department." A voice chimed, a man stepping beside me, arms crossed. I gave a sideway glance, keeping a clam demeanor as the familiar soldier surveyed the scene with a frown.

"Transport department huh? Or a failure of the tram manufacturer." I replied, earning a raised brow.

"I would say both."

I glanced at him, a man only a few years older than me, the usual white hair, but for a few areas of black, and a stern expression. He reminded me of a badger, the ones I'd seen squaring off against lions in nature documentaries.

He had the build of a badger too, a bit stocky, comparatively short, and a firm gaze, a posture that screamed 'authority'. Military officer, or something of the sort.

"Sure. But this here seems like a maintenance issue. Lack of allocated funding from the looks of the thing." I shrugged, crossing my arms, the newspaper sticking out awkwardly, like a broken bone. My finger began to tap against my arm, my bodies way of telling me that it sensed a threat, a discomfort.

"Funding huh...seems to be the case." He scoffed as if personally offended, his eyes flicking to the tram, before settling on me.

I flashed a polite smile, hoping that it'd end the conversation as I looked back at the tram, watching the workers attempt to refuel the iron beast, steam hissing out of pipes, and valves.

It wasn't working, the tram looking more like a lizard who had attempted to soak in the last rays of sunlight, the sun having disappeared behind a layer of clouds. Two other soldiers were present, conversing with the workers, as if telling them to fix it faster, although it seemed like a useless endeavor. From the sakura shaped insignia on their uniform, I could assume they were of the same unit as the soldier beside me.

Why...is he sniffing me out? No reason to talk to me specifically, unless, he feels something off.

Kato mentioned the 'blood bland' burned on me was a treatment for soldiers...?

The soldier let out a huff, uncrossing his arms, before clasping his hands behind his back. "I'm Ishikawa, corporal 24 of the Soyokaze regiment. Who might you be, sir?"

I blinked, glancing at him, the corners of my smile twitching, the polite façade faltering. "Watanabe Jun. Occupationally a consultation assistant, and currently a tram passenger."

Ishikawa nodded slightly, as if mulling it over. "Watanabe huh...? The surname is familiar."

I tensed, the tapping of my fingers becoming more fervent as I let out a laugh, hoping to brush it off. "It's a common surname."

If my assumption is correct, the soldiers are 'Bleak' Spawn, as Annabeth call it. If we are similar...does that mean they can sense it? Is that a basis for arrest here?

Damn it. I don't know.

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"Common yes, but the combination of Watanabe and Jun is not." Ishikawa stated, his tone flat and unrelenting, probing for a reaction, from the looks of the direction he was steering the conversation in.

"I know. But is it a nuisance to have a unique name?" I countered, my smile strained as I attempted to deflect.

"Not a nuisance no, however, unusual names typically indicate foreign heritage."

"Foreign heritage huh...? And that warrants suspicion?" I scoffed, letting out a huff of air, my finger having picked up the pace, drumming against my sleeve.

I don't know the political climate of this place, but this is typical. The issue is that it strikes a nerve. If I engaged, I would be facing worse case scenarios before I've even figured anything out for myself.

If a 'hound' is so dangerous by their definition, then the law won't be kind. Especially if Mr. Badger here is Bleak spawn too.

Ishikawa pursed his lips, his brows furrowed as he shifted his stance. "No...no it does not." He stated, as if hesitant, the statement seeming to not sit well with him.

I gave a slight bow, a polite but silent end to the conversation as I turned, starting to walk down a somewhat rundown side street through the residential area, deciding to try my luck at finding the office myself. Ishikawa didn't follow, and I could feel his gaze, sharp and inquiring, although not an outright malicious intent.

From the looks of it, bleak spawn can sense other spawn, but I couldn't be sure of that. It was all a simple speculation based on the words of individuals that I can't say that I trust.

How much of what Officer Kato said can I really believe? He implied that bleak spawn are treated as monsters, criminals at best.

I stopped walking, a sigh escaping my lips, the white mist melding into the trails of smoke that swirled down the alley from the rooftops. The smell of charcoal, and wood, burnt for heating purposes, staving off the chill of an irregularly cold spring.

Trusting officers, strangers, and people I have no means of trusting. I can't allow myself that luxury. I need to figure this out on my own.

And get back home quickly. So that no one has the time to worry.

I inhaled, before continuing down the alley, passing by the occasional individual, a worker, or two children playing in the streets, rolling an iron ball down the cobblestone, and cheering, a game akin to marbles.

There were many narrow streets that wormed along the hilly sea side region, complimented by various staircases, some of which functioning as shortcuts while others led to private residences and dead ends.

I passed by a woman, carrying what seemed to be a fishing net, giving a slight bow, and earning a curt nod as she continued on her way, up a staircase, a garden growing beside it, a patch of color in the grey morning.

"Ah. Miss!" I called out, earning a pause as the woman looked back, her brow raised.

"Do you happen to know where building 8756, or 8765 is? Dreary Lane? " I flashed a polite smile. Met with a confused stare, I tried again, realizing the foolishness for expecting her to understand my slip of accent, especially for a English street name. "D-Durary...?"

She blinked, before letting out a huff, shifting the fishing net onto her shoulder. "Durary Lane? It's on the hill, past Ōsugi intersection, by the harbor." She stated, before turning, continuing up the stairs, disappearing behind the gate of a traditional residence.

Most of the residents of this area seemed on edge, especially with strangers, more specifically, me. It could have something to do with the arson case, which took place in their harbor. The suspicion of outsiders, fear of a repeat of the same event.

Or it was just simple distaste for my messy accent, the product of mixed ethnicities and too many languages floating around in my brain.

"Its a bloody confusing name. " I huffed, a puff of breath swirling into the frigid ocean wind. The smile dropped from my face as I shoved my hands in my pockets, picking up the pace.

The road sloped upwards, a gradual incline as I climbed up the stairs, pausing at the Ōsugi intersection the woman had mentioned. It was the crossroads between multiple small shops, artisan crafts and old noodle shops alike, overlooking the scene of a harbor that stretched across the shoreline. I leaned against the wooden post that separated me from a plummet to the rocky cliffs below, unable the help my awe at the sight of the iron ships in the distance.

"Wow..." I let out a chuckle, not minding the biting winds as it tousled my hair violently. "Hiro would have killed to see this..."

I reminisced about my ship obsessed younger brother, spending months on a Lego build of the titanic as a kid, only to have to leave it behind when we moved again. I felt the sting of guilt, and fear. The fear that I won't even be there, as support or to annoy.

It hurt, until I decided to wipe it from my thoughts. A temporary solution.

I squinted, glancing at most gargantuan of the ships, the SS albatross, a steam powered behemoth in the distance. It was large, and sported a number of propellers, the ship rocking ever so slightly, the product of the churning waves. Almost as if proving the name, a number of seagulls circled the ship, their cries echoing across the peninsula.

The SS Albatross...1,700 ft of modern ingenuity huh...I wonder if I'm far enough in time period to find the name cool.

It's named after a seagull, for some reason. Or is that a last name somewhere? I mean, it has a nice ring to it.

I let out a scoff, leaning away from the cliffside, and crossing the intersection, headed towards Durary lane, up the winding street, which lead to a business square of sorts.

A chess shop, a fortune teller, an apothecary, and a clock repair shop, all which seemed to be Japanese, with a British flare. The square was rustic, brick, and decorated with a variety of flower beds, its cobblestone floors and lanterns casting a sort of nostalgic air, with a familiarity I couldn't quite grasp.

Tucked away in a corner, beside all of this, building 8756, Madara Consultation Office. A quaint two story building, with the silhouette of a sparrow engraved onto its sign, which swayed in the wind, creaking at the hinges.

I look a deep breath, the exhale that came after seeming to rid me of a weight on my shoulders.

I found it. Finally.

The Morning Glory inn was far in the distance, out of sight like a stain of shadow overlooking the scene, while the same clock tower that recorded my crime pierced through the clouds to the east, its pendulum swinging back and forth.

I stared at the building, before pulling the ID out of my pocket, glancing at the address once more.

Madara consultation office, building 8756 Dreary Lane...

So Jun worked here...